


love is the most beautiful of dreams (and the worst of nightmares)

by orphan_account



Series: beep beep, richie ( it drabbles/ficlets ) [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 19:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17351279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: richie toizer dreams.( repost. )





	love is the most beautiful of dreams (and the worst of nightmares)

 

Richie Toizer dreams.

 

He dreams of his childhood, a part of his life he honestly can't recall.  He dreams of a strangely familiar town that's he never been to before.

 

He dreams of people he thinks he might of loved, but then he thinks differently.  Richie hasn't loved anyone for decades. But when he's here, in the nostalgic yet strange haze, he thinks he has something beautiful with these people.

 

They're like memories that aren't his, coming back to him every time he enters his made up dreamland.

 

Memories of:  bright red and freckles, of a pretty girl with ugly bruises.  A boy with a round face and creative mind.  A friend who meant both protection, yet a voice like a broken record. A darker boy and jazz artists. A group of boys chasing them, and he remembers distantly one with a mullet and dark jeans and an ugly smile.  Another boy, and for some reason this one _hurts_ , but a quiet and neat boy, one who couldn't handle things that were never meant for them in the first place.

 

And that's all his dreams are filled with.  Until one night, something is different.  A nightmare.

 

He gets a new memory-that's-not-his, tonight.  With it, for a few moments the constant hole in his heart seems temporarily filled for one night.

 

_Eddie._

 

The first memory with a name, though it won't make any difference by morning, anyways.  He thinks he remembers what being in love feels like, in the haze.

 

It feels like climbing through windows at night to avoid waking his mother.  It feels like offering piggy back rides when he whines about not being able to walk any longer.  It feels like pinching rosy cheeks and exclaiming, 'Cute, cute, cute!' It feels like having an extra inhaler in his back pocket.  Just incase.

 

But what really strikes Richie, what feels real to him for the first time in years-in a dream, no less - are eyes to big and guarded for such a small and innocent face.  Dark eyes that could be read clearly by anyone. Chocolate pools of fire and annoyance, staring at Richie. Eyes that spoke to him when they locked gazes. Eyes that flooded as Richie watched when his family moved away.  Eyes that whispered _'I love you'_ at night during sleepovers with their friends.

 

God, did Richie love those eyes.

 

Now he was staring into though same eyes, but it was different.  They were duller now, the fire they seemed to sparkle naturally with dimmed.  Tears leaked down Richie's face, but he didn't know why.  Until Eddie placed his cold hand on his cheek. His heart dropped.

 

His eyes were dimming quicker now, and all Richie could do was hold on tighter, trying to will Eddie to stay alive. He found himself doing what he always did, start speaking.  "Oh god, oh Christ, Eds. Jeezus, you're-oh god." Richie choked out, rambling.

 

Eddie opens his mouth, his own tears collecting in his eyes and Richie realizes: he's dying.  Another sob leaves him.

 

_"Don't call me Eds...you know...I...I..."_

 

Richie want's to scream, but he can't find his voice.  Not when Eddie-his Eddie, had just died in his arms.  He has so many things he had needed to say, needed to tell him.

 

Someone reaches for him, but Richie flinches, bringing Eddie closer almost defensively.  He thinks he knows now why he's felt this sick all these years, why he's felt broken.  Because his soulmate is dead.

 

Instead of saying anything, instead of breaking down, Richie inhales sharply and does the thing he's wanted to do for twenty-seven years.  He leans down and brushes his lips to Eddie's cold, sterile tasting ones.  He pulls back after a few moments, and despite the overwhelming pain he's feeling, he smiles brokenly.

 

_Battery acid._

 

He wakes up.

 

In the early moments of morning with the sun sitting on the horizon, Richie almost remembers the taste of asthma medicine against his lips and the sight of the most beautiful brown eyes losing their light.  He doesn't know why he's crying, but pushes it to the back of his mind.  He needs coffee, he decides.  And as Richie waits for the coffee machine to brew, his dreams fade into the morning light.

 

Richie Toizer dreams.  But he never remembers.

**Author's Note:**

> i think i wrote this like a year ago after i finished the book and first joined the fandom? i was in some major feels oof. stephan king is a monster. ( i'm not really an active fan anymore, but since i started writing again I've decided to start posting some old works )


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